Honey Bear
by moseph
Summary: He was like a lion, roaming his territory, seeking adventure, meat, and some good lookin’ new lionesses. You’d never catch a lion tied down with one bitchy, albeit hot, lioness.
1. One

Quick note: Okay, no one hurt me for not updating my other stories, I just have a _slight_ case of writer's block. I'll work on them as soon as I'm unblocked. This was just so much fun to write. The chapters will be fairly short, and there won't be very many. Just a brief thing. On with the fic!

* * *

Spot flicked his cigarette stub at the ground and blew the rest of the smoke out of his mouth. She hated the taste of smoke. He quickly lit another and held it to his lips, his hands shaking.

It was getting colder and colder as the days went on, but Spot was staying out later and later just to stay away from there. He couldn't take it. He always tried to slip in when he thought she'd be asleep, but as soon as the doorknob twisted, she was right at the door, wanting to hear about his day and where he went and who he talked to and what he did and if he made any good sales and on and on and on...

It was like being married, tied down, a thing Spot Conlon refused to become. He was a wild stallion. No, not a stallion...a lion! Yeah, a lion! He was like a lion, roaming his territory, seeking adventure, meat, and some good lookin' new lionesses. You'd never catch a lion tied down with one bitchy, albeit hot, lioness.

All the newsies had vacated the streets several hours ago, leaving Spot to smoke on his own. He hoped that, if he smoked enough, she wouldn't try to kiss him tonight. He also planned to find a drunk later and take his flask, so he wouldn't have to pay for a drink to make him appear drunk. Something really foul smelling, hopefully, so as to drive her away.

Spot had dumped her a month ago, when she started getting a little possessive. She left his apartment in a huff, slamming doors and screaming obscenities. The next morning, she was at his door, kissing him on the cheek and calling him "honey bear" again. He hated that. When asked, she had absolutely no recollection of their previous argument.

Since that had happened, Spot had come home drunk, on drugs, stinking of smoke, vomit, sewage and any other foul smelling thing he could rub on himself. He'd threatened her, ignored her, insulted her, called her fat and ugly, and cheated on her twenty times in the past two weeks. They'd had more than one fight, but she was always at his side the next day, putting her head on his shoulder, slipping her arm around his waist. He'd find it touching if she wasn't so annoying. Plus, it was sort of a turn off for really pretty girls to see some other girl clinging to his torso. Occasionally, he'd tell girls that she was his mentally handicapped sister when she was out of ear shot, which almost guaranteed that he'd get laid.

A trolley ran by, and Spot checked the time on the clock on the World building. 10:48. The last trolley. Time to make his slow, excruciating way home to Brooklyn. It was a long walk from where he was. He'd been wandering further and further every day. The closer he was to his apartment, the more likely she was to lean out the window and scream at him to come home. Not exactly great for his reputation.

He hadn't managed to pick any pockets for a drink, but he had managed to conveniently trip and fall directly into a large pile of waste. Inhaling the repulsing smell deeply, Spot went happily on his way, knowing his work was done.

Finally, after a long walk, Spot arrived at the rotting door of his apartment. Taking a deep breath, and preparing himself for the worst, he pushed the door open.

"SPOTTYKINS!" A flurry of dress and hair tackled him, sending him sprawling into the door. "YOU'RE HOME!"

"Yes. Yes I am," Spot said, spitting some of her hair out of his mouth.

"I missed you so much!" she cooed, snuggling further into his chest, not bothered by the smell.

"I, uh...missed you, too," Spot lied, gently pushing her off his chest.

"I missed you, too, _whaat?_" Spot gave a weary sigh.

"I missed you, too...pumpkin," he muttered, moving past her toward the bedroom.

"Where are you going, honey bear?" she cried.

"I'm going to bed. I've had a long day," Spot answered, not turning around.

"But Spotty, you smell all icky! Don't you want to take a bath? I could help you..." she offered seductively. Had it been any other woman, any other woman at all, he would have agreed. But it wasn't any other woman. It was _her_. Spot stopped and turned to look at her. Her brown hair fell in loose curls over her back and in her face. Her smile stretched from her lips to her sparkly blue eyes. It was no wonder Spot fell for her instantly. She was gorgeous. If only she wasn't a psycho.

"No. Really. I'm fine. I'm going. To bed." Spot walked into the bedroom and shut the door. It was only seconds before...

"Knock knock!" she cooed, opening the door and sitting herself on the bed. "Tell me all about your day while you're getting dressed for bed." Spot paused, hand on his belt buckle.

"You're just going to...sit there and...watch me...undress?" he asked uncertainly.

"Honey bear, it's not like I've never seen you naked before," she said, a devilish grin on her face. "Come on. I want to know _exactly_ what you did."

"I bought my papers, sold all of them but one, and went out with the guys. The end," Spot said quickly, stepping behind the dresser to undress. She giggled, like he'd just told her a joke.

"Oh, Spottykins, you're so cute!" she cried, coming over and wrapping her arms around his waist. He stood like a statue. "Spotty? What's wrong?"

"I...uh...I have to sleep in the other room tonight," he said.

"Why?"

"...I caught a cold!" he lied quickly, coughing unconvincingly. "I wouldn't want you to catch it."

"Awww, poor Spotty! You're so considerate of me. I'll go to pharmacist tomorrow and see if he has anything for your cold." She pinched his cheek like his grandmother and slipped under the covers. "Are you sure you don't want to stay with me tonight? It's going to be cold out..."

"Oh, no, the last thing I want is for you to get sick and die," Spot said, leaving the room as quickly as he could.


	2. Two

I'm back! I adore this story. Yay for crazy psycho girlfriends! I'm not doing shoutouts ((pauses for collective gasp from readers)) because it just postpones my updating, but thanks to...

**rubix the cube  
****Ginny  
****love97  
****StormShadow21  
****LegallyRed**

I love you all!

**Disclaimer:** I own Spot's girlfriend and Tabitha (read on for Tabitha!). Disney owns Spot and the other related trademarks, blah blah blah.

* * *

The sunlight streamed annoyingly through the windows of the tiny, one bedroom Brooklyn apartment. Spot squinted through the sunlight, then closed his eyes contentedly. It was still early. He didn't have to be at the gates for another hour. He flipped on to his side, allowing himself a more comfortable sleeping position, and an arm snaked its way around his bare chest, rubbing it lightly with soft fingertips.

Something was very, very wrong.

Spot cracked an eye open, but saw nothing but his apartment. The arm was coming from behind. As slowly as he could, he tilted his body in the direction of the arm.

"BAH!" Spot rolled off the couch with a thud, taking the thin blanket with him. She stirred, lifting her slim torso off the couch. Her arms stretched skyward, Spot's button down shirt riding up slightly.

"Morning Spottykins," she said through a yawn, smiling angelically.

"You...you're here!"

"I couldn't let my honey bear sleep alone! Even if he is sick." She knelt on the floor beside him, wrapping her arms around him. It was then that he noticed she was wearing _only_ his shirt and he was wearing only a thin pair of boxers. Spot tried to recall the events of the previous night. He didn't have a hangover, so he obviously wasn't drunk. But he thought he would recall sleeping with her.

"Did we...?"

"Nope, you were passed out cold when I lay down with you. I guess because you were sick, right?"

"Oh, yeah, really...really, very, very sick. Cough cough," Spot said, wriggling out of her grasp to get a drink. Too early for liquor, unfortunately. He settled for milk. The white liquid splashed into his glass and he watched it, almost in a trance. This wasn't happening. He wasn't still here. _She_ wasn't still here. Yet there she was, stretching in a way that allowed Spot's shirt to expose areas not suitable for description. He chugged the milk back, longing for something stronger.

"So. I'm gonna...go to work," Spot said, setting down the glass and smearing his milk mustache with his arm. She groaned quietly.

"Oh, Spotty, do you _have_ to go? You know I hate those long hours you work," she said, pouting and wrapping her arms around his waist. He stood very still. Maybe, if he didn't make any sudden movements, she would go away.

"Well, you know, I gotta make a livin' somehow. How else would I pay for this apartment?" he asked rhetorically. He smugly congratulated himself on stumping her.

"Hon, you don't pay for this apartment. The landlord does," she said innocently. Spot looked at her blankly. "The landlord? Your cousin Tommy?"

"Um, yes...yes, that's true..." Spot trailed off. Damn it. There went another excuse out the window. "Well...pumpkin, it's my job. I can't just hang around here all day."

"I know. I just get so lonely in this apartment all by myself," she said, looking up at him through long eyelashes. She'd be _so_ much easier to avoid if she wasn't so God damn beautiful. Spot pushed his arms off her, regrettably.

"Well, maybe you should...go visit your friends," he suggested, making his way slowly to the bedroom to put on some actual clothes.

"What friends? The only friend I got is you. The only friend I _need_ is you," she purred softly, sweetly. Spot dashed into my bedroom and shut the door. "Besides, all my 'friends' abandoned me after I started living with you. They don't like you, Spot. They don't think you treat me good," her voice came from the other side of the door. "They think I'm dumb for staying with you."

_Well, they've got the dumb part down_, Spot thought to himself, struggling into pants. His gaze caught his reflection in the mirror momentarily and he stopped to admire himself. The hours he spent lifting weights had _certainly_ paid off. He traced the contours of his pecs and abs with his finger. Yes, it was certainly a body to be admired. He couldn't blame her for not wanting to leave him. At the same time, though, he was done with her, plus she was a psycho. Spot buttoned up his shirt and pulled a hat on his head. There. Walking sex bomb. He opened the door once more and found her standing right there, waiting for him. She immediately wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. Spot tried his damndest to resist, which wasn't very hard.

"That's to remember me by when you're at work today," she whispered in his ear. She handed him his cane and saw him out the door. Spot stood in the hallway, bewildered. What the hell just happened to him? The sensation of her lips on his still tingled. He chewed on it hard with his teeth to make it go away. It lingered in spite of him. Damn, that psycho was one good screw.

But, as good a screw as she was, she couldn't compare to the company of Miss Tabitha Goldsmith, who Spot found himself with that night. Spot had nailed her a couple times back in the alleys in the past. She, unlike his live-in nut-job, wasn't very particular as to where she went for the night. However, Spot had never found the guts to take her home with him. Now, he was desperate. He'd heard his "pumpkin" talk of Tabitha, nose wrinkled. She wasn't _respectable_. When Spot pointed out that she, perhaps, wasn't exactly the Virgin Mary, she insisted that at least she had _standards_. Apparently, Tabitha would screw anything with the equipment and didn't even need to money to convince her.

Spot watched her black hair swing on her back. She was sitting on his lap, giving him a very generous view down her low cut bodice. She noticed him staring and put her blood-red lips to his ear.

"So, are you gonna take me home or are we just gonna have to do it right here in the bar?" she asked seductively. Spot grinned at her saucily and raised his eyebrows in a strange form of communication. Tabitha understood and quickly got off his lap, sneaking an arm around his shoulders as he stood.

"I'll see you tomorrow, guys. I'm headed home for the night," Spot said, still grinning with that cocky swagger that made all other guys hate him and wish to be him at the same time. The two headed to the door, barely making it outside before Spot slammed her against the wall and stuck his tongue down her throat. Tabitha gladly accepted; after all, it wasn't as if she had any standards after she married that oaf of a factory worker. But when his hand started to slip up her dress and across her thigh, Tabitha stopped him.

"I thought we were going back to your place," she said boldly. Spot persisted, but Tabitha matched his determination. "Honey, it's been two months. I need an upgrade or I'm gone." Spot sighed and relented.

"All right. But I gotta warn you, I have a girl there." Tabitha raised an eyebrow.

"A girl? In the apartment?" Spot nodded. "Look, Spot, I don't know what they told you, but I do draw the line at threesomes."

"No, you misunderstood me. There's a girl there, but it'll be _just_ the two of us. You got it?" Spot told her. Tabitha clearly still wasn't sure what the hell was going on, but she agreed and continued walking. Spot walked beside her, jingling the few coins in his pockets nervously. Tabitha said nothing. Guys weren't really in the market for mouthy girls.

Finally, they reached the crumbling apartment building and Spot let them inside. They started to climb the stairs and Spot felt a growing lump in his stomach. He couldn't tell if it was anxiety or anticipation or too much to drink, but he figured this to be his last resort. If this wouldn't drive her out of his apartment, nothing would.

They stopped climbing when they reached the fourth floor. Spot's apartment was around the corner, number 42. Tabitha trailed him in the dimly lit hallway. The building itself was a decent place to have an affair. Comfortable, sturdy beds, thick walls, few roaches.

Spot's apartment was the third door on the left, which Tabitha found out after he pressed her against it. She didn't protest and allowed him to open the door behind her with his hand wrapped around her left breast.

"Spotty?" The voice was quiet and timid, from the couch. The pair turned their heads and saw the source: a pretty brunette with dirty hair and smudged newsprint fingers, the folded evening edition on the couch beside her. She looked from Spot to Tabitha to Spot's hand on Tabitha's breast. She stood and walked toward them, looking up at Spot with wide eyes quickly brimming with tears. She stared at them both with a terrible expression of betrayal. Then, with little flourish or melodrama, she turned, walked into the bedroom and shut the door.

The unfaithful couple didn't hear from her for the rest of the night.

* * *

I originally had this really cool backstory for Tabitha, but it wouldn't have fit, since the story is in Spot's POV, so I had to take it out. I smell a spinoff, though...

moseph


End file.
